Mother, will you read to me?
by whitetiger91
Summary: They're his toys, his clothes, his food—his mother. Why would he want a baby brother to spoil it all?


_**A/N: This story was written as an entry for The Houses Competition, Year 3, Round 10.**_

 _ **House: Gryffindor**_

 _ **Year: Head Girl**_

 _ **Category: Drabble**_

 _ **Prompt:** **3\. [Theme] Jealousy**_

 _ **Additional requirements:**_ **_A sad occasion/moment/emotion_**

 _ **Word count: 744 words (written on Google docs)**_

 ** _Betas: Thank you to CK (Theoretical-Optimist) for beta'ing!  
_**

 ** _WARNINGS: At the risk of spoiling the story, this story does allude to miscarriage.  
_**

 ** _Additional A/N: Woohoo! It's finally round 10 :D This story is one of three potential drabbles I couldn't decide on, with one being about Mr Nott losing his son and wife, and the other how Mrs Crabbe deals with the truth of Vincent's death after the war. I may or may not publish them still, but I sincerely hope this was the right decision._**

 ** _This story is an AU in which Vincent never had a baby brother (but possibly not an AU since we don't know that much about him... it could've happened?). I think that it could be possible that Vincent was only as 'dumb' as he was portrayed because of his family life, including possible neglect (or in other stories I've written, an over-doting mother), and thus this idea came about. I honestly don't know what's with me and babies this round (as the Standard will show later... oops), especially as it's currently been pleasant in real life with friends announcing pregnancies and healthy births. Ryu is also a name meaning dragon (as opposed to the Draco I was originally going to go with lol). Finally, after having much trouble with this word in the past, I've found that 'tsks' (or 'tsk-tsk') is the sound form and is written in italics, whereas 'tisks' is the prose form and not italicised (for those who've known me this year, finally discovering the format is like finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow :'))._**

 ** _Anyways, thank you to judges, mods, my team, and everyone else who reads these stories! I hope you have an amazing week! Xx_**

* * *

 **Mother, will you read to me?**

 _ **Mother, will you read to me?**_

The four-year-old paces outside his parents' bedroom, a book in his hands, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door. His father doesn't like him entering the room, but it's almost bedtime and he needs his mother.

"Vinnie?"

A smile lights up his face as she opens the door, and he shows her the book. "Read to me?"

She takes his hand and leads him to his bedroom where they settle on his bed. It's a little more squashed than normal—his mother's belly is much larger than it used to be—but she makes room for him.

* * *

 _ **Mother, will you play with me?**_

Vincent pushes the little scarlet train around the floor, taking extra care to avoid the legs of the furniture. His parents will get angry if there's a scratch in the wood, but he can't help it if his toy slips sometimes.

He looks up as his mother waddles into the room. "Let's play!"

She shakes her head and smiles. "Sorry, Vinnie, not today," she says, rubbing her swollen stomach.

Vincent eyes the bump warily; he doesn't like that his mother can't bend down because of it. Still, he shrugs and goes back to playing.

* * *

 _ **Mother, can we bake something?**_

The young boy walks into the spare bedroom, clutching his stomach. He's hungry, but his mother still hasn't brought him his afternoon snack.

She's sitting on the bed with his aunt, her eyes sparkling as she sorts through old baby clothes.

"Isn't this darling?" his aunt coos, holding up a small blue romper.

"That's mine!"

His aunt frowns and _tsks_ , but his mother makes a spot for him on the bed. "It doesn't fit you anymore, sweetie. You won't mind sharing it, will you?"

Vincent glares at her stomach. He doesn't want to share his clothes, toys, food, or his mother with someone else. His mother's smiling at him, though, and he wants her to keep smiling.

"Okay, Mummy," he finally says. Then he remembers why he's there. "Can we bake something?"

She laughs. "Alright, we'll be finished here soon. Why don't you get out the bowls?"

His mother's focus then goes back to the clothes and not on him.

* * *

 _ **Mother, can we draw together?**_

It's been a while since his mother has drawn with him, but that doesn't stop Vincent from setting up his ink and parchment on the kitchen table as he waits for his parents to come home. When he hears the flames roar in the fireplace, he quickly takes a seat.

"I told you that you were being silly," his father says, helping his mother sit down.

Vincent waits for him to leave the room before he holds out a quill. "Want to draw?"

His mother smiles and they both begin to draw dragons.

As she draws a spiky tail, she glances up at him. "The Healer said your baby brother will be born soon."

He concentrates on his own drawing, not wanting to hear anything about his brother. His mother's always busy worrying about him—she's always at the hospital or in the baby's room—and he's not even there yet.

"I might need help with names…" his mother says. "What should we call him?"

Vincent looks up. Maybe if he gets to name his brother, he'll get to be the boss of him.

"What about Ryu?" he asks, thinking of the annoying brother dragon in his favourite story.

His mother grins. "Ryu is perf—"

She suddenly clutches her stomach and she looks at the seat of her chair. There's red ink there, and he wonders if she's spilt one of the ink bottles.

" _Ryu..._ " she repeats, her eyes watering. "Sebastian! Quick!"

His father races into the room, pushing him out.

Vincent breaks the quill in his hand and glares at the door that's slammed in his face. Just when things are going nicely, his brother has to ruin it again.

* * *

 _ **Mother, will you read to me?**_

Vincent pushes open the door to the spare room, his book clutched in his hand. Now that his mother's belly is flat again, she should have time for him.

She's sitting on the bed, but she doesn't look up. Tears slide down her cheeks as she stares at the baby clothes covering the bed.

"Storytime, Mummy."

She doesn't make any room for him. He slowly leaves, glaring at the book in his hands.

Ryu isn't there, yet she still loves his little brother more.


End file.
